


Believe

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: I love this ship, M/M, Pre-Canon, Ronsey, because Gansey feels things so intensely, but who am i kidding, so I'm tagging it in case I'm not as subtle as I want to think I am, so this could also be gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 22:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20983190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: “Can I look at it?”Ronan’s hand, with its bruised knuckles and slender fingers, was only inches from his journal, waiting for permission. Gansey had already welcomed Ronan into his car, his home and his walls, so this should have been an easy answer. He knew he’d considered it a moment too long when Ronan began to pull back.“Yes, of course,” tumbled out of Gansey’s mouth, and he didn’t miss the way Ronan’s face lit up in response.





	Believe

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another piece for [Fictober](https://fictober-event.tumblr.com/post/187637998976/fictober-2019)! Day 10 is “Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me.” I have been dying to write some pre-canon shenanigans with Ronan and Gansey at the Barns, so here it is. Hope you enjoy!

“Can I look at it?”

Gansey looked up at Ronan from the hem of his shirt, where he’d been plucking bits of hay off the hem. It was a futile effort; the rest of him was still covered in it. He’d even gotten grass stains on his chinos from an earlier scuffle in the front yard with Matthew and Ronan. Declan had smirked at them from the porch, though he still looked at Gansey with a wary gaze. Gansey knew cautious scrutiny when he saw it. Helen had worn that look since…well, for as long as he could remember, honestly. He sometimes wondered how deep beneath protective older sibling duty that caution went.

To be fair, Gansey himself was feeling a protective sort of caution now. 

Ronan’s hand, with its bruised knuckles and slender fingers, was only inches from his journal, waiting for permission. Gansey had already welcomed Ronan into his car, his home and his walls, so this should have been an easy answer. He knew he’d considered it a moment too long when Ronan began to pull back.

“Yes, of course,” tumbled out of Gansey’s mouth, and he didn’t miss the way Ronan’s face lit up in response.

Ronan reached out for the journal again, hooking his fingers around the edges and pulling it toward him carefully. He’d seen how carefully Gansey handled it, and he did the same. Gansey couldn’t tear his eyes away as his new friend carefully unwrapped the leather cord — once, twice, the bindings pooling on the old loft floor. Gansey swallowed back the lump in his throat, trying not to feel exposed as Ronan ran his fingertips along the edge of the cover before letting the pages sprawl open in his lap. They sat in silence, crickets chirping loudly outside. Or maybe Gansey just thought they were loud because there was nothing else to focus on besides that and Ronan touching the parts of him no one really saw. Stroked the edges of maps taped inside, traced the dark lines Gansey had drawn over them, caressed symbols of ravens and crowns and all of Gansey’s fevered notes. 

“So,” Ronan said, looking up at Gansey through his lashes, huffing a fall of curls out of his face. 

Gansey hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until it rushed forth in an echo of, “So.”

“It’s a spell book?”

The tension threaded its way through and out of Gansey in a nervous laugh. “Well, not quite? Listen, I can’t explain it. You’ll have to trust me. It’s a magical quest, I suppose?”

“Magic,” Ronan murmured. 

Gansey suddenly couldn’t read Ronan’s piercing blue eyes, so he dropped his gaze. It was a mistake to look at Ronan’s hands instead; they were still touching, caressing, learning. He licked his lips, sad to realize he was braced for this to be the last time would invite him to the Barns. What made it worse was that the Barns felt just as magical to him as they ley lines had, as the legends of Glendower and his slumber. How ridiculous to think of the Barns as _ home _ so quickly, and even worse to regret losing it just as fast. It was one thing to talk about his quest to stodgy old professors and dismissive society folk who got chatty with him at parties. Ronan was the first of his actual age-mates he’d ever opened up to about it, and now he felt decidedly old at the tender age of fifteen.

“All right.”

Gansey snapped out of the downward spiral his thoughts had become. Those two words sounded like Ronan answering a question he couldn’t bear to ask. 

“I’m sorry. What?” 

He blinked at Ronan, whose expression had shifted. Now it looked more like the careless smirk Ronan had given as he shrugged and slid into the passenger seat of the Pig for the first time. Anticipating the rush and pretending it didn’t matter. Gansey’s heart skipped a beat. He watched Ronan lay his hand over a page Gansey knew well. A sleepless night, chased into insomnia by a night terror that buzzed at his ears until he woke up screaming. He always forgot about this part of his journal until his fingers stumbled over it in exhausted reverie. Ronan’s palm covered a mantra in anxious blue ink. 

_ You will live because of Glendower. _

_ You will live because of Glendower. _

_ You will live _

“All right. I trust you.” 

It felt like Ronan’s hand covered his heart. The relief swelling in Gansey made him swear he could feel its warmth. He leaned in, breathing, laughing, giddy with delight. Glendower traveled with trusted advisers, _ magicians _, and Ronan’s trust felt like fealty. Gansey remembered he was alive again. 

“Well,” he said, covering Ronan’s hand with his own, looking for all the world like he was about to spill his greatest secret. Perhaps he was. “What do you know of dead Welsh kings?”

Ronan snorted, but he didn’t pull away. “Not as much as I think I’m about to learn.”

Gansey smiled. He truly had found home.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell about TRC with me over at [my blog](http://oldkingyounggod.tumblr.com)!


End file.
